Love itThe pinnacle of Valentine’s Day, and possibly the last time I cared about Valentine’s Day was in third grade when we’d bring store-bought Valentine’s Day cards for your entire class. Boys brought something boyish, G.I. Joe or Transformers, and girls brought something girly, like Barbie or My Little Pony.
If you were lucky, more cards than not contained one to four candy hearts. Always seeking the affection of the ladies, even at the age of 8, I’d rip open the Valentine’s Day card and, if it was from one of the girls I was ga-ga for (that would be a third of the girls in the class), I thoroughly analyzed each candy heart, looking for the smallest indication that I was being sent a romantic signal. Did Jenny actually want me to be hers? Did Erica really want me to hug her?
Why did I think I should read into their candy-heart messages? Because I definitely vetted each candy heart I sent, making sure old Brenda didn’t think she was the one, or for Marlena to think I wanted her to marry me.
No, a candy heart never led to anything longterm, but it could always give a little guy hope.
David Holub Hate ItChalk. Ground up guano. The residue that dry erase markers leave on your finger. This is the awful crap that candy hearts remind me of. I don’t want to shove bat crap or fatty chalk sticks in my maw, so why the hell would I let a candy heart enter it?
Candy hearts began in 1847 by the Necco company. Yes, the same company that created Necco wafers. Mmm, yes, delicious – a disk that tastes like dust scratched from the petrified heart of a sugar mogul. Necco makes over 4.8 billion candy hearts. They make up 40 percent of the Valentine’s Day candy market. Who are you people eating these horrendous hearts? Why aren’t you eating peanut butter cups? There are so many BETTER CANDIES. So many candies that are less pastel. Ugh.
As if the missives of bland infatuation weren’t bad enough, Necco candy hearts aren’t vegetarian. The little jerks have gelatin in them. Didn’t want to eat you anyways.
Patty Templeton
